Hard to Have Heart
by KimicThranduilion
Summary: When the lust for orc blood takes hold of Elrohir he fears himself an angry, heartless being. However big brother Elladan is there to help. One shot based off a prompt. Elrohir POV. Present tense. Characters: Elladan, Elrohir


**Prompt:** It's hard to have a heart when you've stopped so many others.

 **Rating:** T

 **Setting:** Pre A Nasty Cough; during the twins orc hunting times after Celebrian's sailing

 **Characters:** Elrohir, Elladan

 **Summary:** Elrohir is angry and fears himself lost to his rage but Elladan is there to help

It's hard to have a heart when you are responsible for the cessation of so many others.

At least that is what Elrohir tells himself regularly, and thus he feels no great qualms about the bloodlust that grips him tight from time to time. He doesn't feel bad at all about the way he smashes the hilt of Hyandënóla into the clavicle of an orc unfortunate enough to stumble next to him. Feels no pity when he gives his broadsword a quick flick round so he can neatly decapitate the beast. Does not even bat an eye when its foul blood splatters him liberally.

Instead Elrohir revels in it, directing his attention to another of the abhorrent creatures stupid enough to still approach him. It lunges and Elrohir smiles dancing neatly out of the way before lashing out with Hyandënóla. He is not really trying – merely toying with the beast – a feint here, a parry there, a lunge or two.

The orc is tiring rapidly; its cumbersome body heavy and sluggish – nowhere near Elrohir's lithe, sleek, muscled form that shows not even the slightest hint of weariness despite the corpses strewn at his feet. In fact Elrohir feels like he is just getting started – just warming up. He quickly grows bored though, bored of his current sparring partner and decides to put it out of its misery. With some quick, smart footwork and a well-timed thrust the orc is dead at his feet, blood sluggishly trickling out of the clean wound left by Hyandënóla.

Elrohir doesn't spare it another glance and is instead instantly on the lookout for his next opponent. There are none though and that infuriates him.

Had he gone through them all already? Where there truly none left to challenge him? None left for him to let loose his wrath upon?

Elrohir is angry, annoyed and nearly frantic – the bloodlust has him and he _needs_ to kill, to slay, to maim, to slaughter. He _needs_ to stop the dreadful beat of more orc-ish hearts.

Orcs.

How he hates them; how he wants to crush them. He _needs_ to. Needs it now. Right now.

Hyandënóla has not drank nearly enough of their blood yet and Elrohir scans the area hoping against hope to find another of the beasts but alas there are no more. He has cut them all down – all twenty of them – and Elrohir thinks now he was too hasty in ending the life of his last opponent.

I should have played with it more, Elrohir thinks bitterly.

For now there were none of the _glamhoth_ left for him to work off his bloodlust on and that is never a good thing. The bloodlust makes Elrohir twitchy, hypersensitive and cruel. His usually never-ending patience disappears and he is left an angry, twisted version of himself. He snaps at anything and everyone – even his dearest Elladan.

Elladan.

His dear twin brother hates this side of him – cannot abide it.

Twas the reason that Elrohir stood alone amongst the broken bodies of his greatest foes.

The bloodlust had come and Elrohir needed to sate it but Elladan would not hear of it. They had been out all day and now it was time to rest. But Elrohir could not rest; his bloodlust sang and needled at him until at last it had caused a full blown raging row with his twin.

Elrohir had left their camp then – he knew it was for the best. He could not be neither kind nor caring when the lust for orc blood took him. And so he had gone back out, rage almost consuming him – before he'd managed to track down the unsuspecting orc pack. They had put up a good fight but now, now it was over an Elrohir did not feel even the tiniest bit bettero.

His anger and the bloodlust are still boiling red hot within him and Elrohir stretches out his senses. Hoping, desperately hoping to find more of the _glamhoth_. Hell, he'd even settle for goblins right about now. Unfortunately for him though he senses nothing. Nothing.

But then…

Elrohir tenses and swirls round to face his twin.

"Elladan you should not have come here. Leave me be – I will return to you later." _When I have come to myself_ , Elrohir does not say.

Elladan is as stubborn as ever though and does not even budge. Instead he takes a step closer regarding the chaos around Elrohir with mild distaste, "Nay. I will not leave." Elladan draws his own sword, Nyérënehtar, "I have left you alone for long enough now and I can see that _it_ …that _thing_ still has a hold of you."

Elladan can never bring himself to refer directly to his bloodlust – always calls it 'that thing' or 'it' and Elrohir almost gives a wry smile but Elladan is speaking again.

"I guess so few _glamhoth_ are not enough to truly rid you of that _thing_. So come, let your big brother help; let me chase _it_ away. Come Elrohir – fight me!"

Elladan lunges at him so quickly Elrohir barley has time to block and he is instantly on the back foot. Elladan is not holding anything back and is really going for him. Elrohir is wary at first. Why is Elladan doing this? Usually he leaves Elrohir well alone when the bloodlust takes him.

But Elrohir has no time to ponder, only to keep feinting and blocking and then…then he gets it. For his blood is singing, his adrenaline is pumping and he realises. He knows what Elladan means to do and so Elrohir throws himself into the fight.

Neither twin holds back and the night air fills with the clanking, metallic sound of swords meeting.

 **~o~**

Elrohir sheathes his sword, chest heaving – finally tired, finally spent and most importantly of all finally back to his usual self. The bloodlust is gone and he can smile again; his real true smile not some cold, sneering parody and he looks to his twin.

" _Hannon-le_ Ladan."

Elladan only nods, smiles and clasps his shoulder for a moment before he moves off to begin dragging the orc corpses into a pile for burning. Elrohir moves to help him and despite the grim task he feels happy again, lighter of heart – more himself. For the bloodlust is gone and Elladan with his clever thinking has made it so.

It's hard to have a heart when you've stopped so many others, that is true, but Elrohir is glad to feel and to know that whilst his heart is damaged it is not yet dead. And with Elladan by his side to look over him and hold him back from utter despair Elrohir knows he will never become like his foes. He will never ever be completely heartless and that thought gives him hope.

Hope that one day the bloodlust will leave him for good; hope that one day his broken, shattered _fëa_ will mend.

 **END.**

Hyandënóla – (Quenya) Literally: I cleave heads; Head Cleaver Elrohir's broad sword

Glamhoth – Din horde; yelling horde- Sindarin for Orcs

Nyérënehtar – (Quenya) Literally: Sorrow Slayer; Slayer of Sorrow Elladan's broad sword

Hannon-le – Thank you

 **A/N: Just a little something that popped into my head when I was going through my writing prompt list; then it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it - so voila! I also really wanted to try out writing (mostly) in the present tense. So hope you enjoy and do drop me a one liner to let me know what you think.**

 **And fear not Chap 31 of Friendship Amidst Loss is half way written and I've finally got my inspiration back for Wrath and Ruin so keep an eye out for Chap 5 of that. It's a bit of slow going typing them up as I've injured my both wrists but I'm plugging away at it day by day :) KimicT**


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